


Coming Home

by uena



Series: The Sweetest Thing [56]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9440087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uena/pseuds/uena
Summary: Porthos returns.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princeyoungjaes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princeyoungjaes/gifts).



The train compartment is crowded and stuffy. Porthos gave up his seat to an elderly lady travelling with her granddaughter half an hour ago and remained standing next to them to shield them from the vociferous youths occupying the four-seater across the aisle. The self-made cookies he received in exchange were absolutely worth it, especially since he managed to tease the recipe out of the old lady.

Her granddaughter keeps staring up at him, wide-eyed and amazed, and eventually she stretches up on her grandmother’s lap, whispers something in her ear and makes her chuckle. “Tiana wants to know if you’re a knight.”

Porthos echoes her chuckle, swaying back and forth with the rhythm of the train, crouches down so he’s on eye level with the little girl. “What makes you think that, darlin’?”

“You’re nice,” she says, “and tall.”

Amusement curls in his belly and makes him laugh. “That’s all?”

She pouts. “That’s a lot!”

He nods, adopting an earnest expression. “You’re right, little one. Then I guess I really am a knight.”

“Where are you going, if you don’t mind my asking?” the grandmother inquires, and Porthos smiles at her, doesn’t hesitate to tell the truth.

“I’m going home - back to my boyfriends.” Just saying it makes him happy, pulls at the joyful tension in his chest and makes it feels as if he’s floating a few inches off the ground.

There’s the merest blip of confusion in her eyes, and then she lifts an eyebrow, saucy as can be. “Oh, you got two of those?”

“Maybe he needs two,” Tiana chimes in. “Because he’s so tall.”

Porthos laughs again. “Yes, that’s precisely it. You wanna see ‘em?”

She does, so Porthos shows her a picture of Athos and Aramis. He’s done a lot of that over the past few weeks - has shown his loves off to Samara’s parents and her siblings, to every friend who visited. It made him miss them a little less.

“I like him,” Tiana proclaims, stabbing a pointy finger at Athos. “He looks nice.”

It’s probably just as well that Porthos showed her a picture where Athos is actually smiling for once.

“The other one is very handsome as well,” her grandmother decides. “Good for you.”

Porthos grins at her, restores his phone to his inside jacket pocket and straightens to reach the overhead handhold. He can’t wait to get home. As nice as Samara’s family was, and as great as it felt to be with his sister, being without Athos and Aramis for two weeks - being away from home - has left its mark on Porthos.

He was fine for about a week, and then he started to feel out of his element. He’s not one to go on holiday very often, is not used to leaving his whole life behind like that. It’s not only Athos and Aramis he’s missing, but everyone at the orphanage as well - his kids, Charon and Flea and the Captain, Elodie.

This is the last train though. He’s made it through several delays and a horribly draughty wait on a deserted platform on the outskirts of nowhere. He’s almost home. Athos and Aramis have promised to get him from the station, and the mere thought of them pushing into his arms has buoyed Porthos during this whole exhausting day.

He’s going to cuddle them so hard.

A pull on his jacket directs his attention downward, and Tiana motions for him to get back to eye level. Years of conditioning take over, and Porthos immediately folds in half. “What is it, darlin’?”

She grabs him so she can whisper in his ear, and he chuckles. “The bathroom, eh? Sure, I can take you.”

Her grandmother’s eyes widen, and she stares at the girl in amazement. “What’s this, Tiana - don’t you want me to take you?”

“No, you need to make sure no-one takes our seat,” the little girl explains. “I want the knight to take me.”

“My name’s Porthos, actually.”

She nods firmly. “That’s a good name for a knight.”

Porthos surrenders. “Alright then. Let’s go.”

She slides off her grandmother’s lap and reaches up to grasp his hand with a level of implicitness that makes him want to adopt her on the spot. Instead he leads her through the train carriage and towards the toilets - secures her the spot at the top of the waiting line. He’s aware that most people looking at them take him for her Dad, doesn’t mind that one bit.

People keep asking him if he doesn’t want a child of his own, but as far as he’s concerned he’s got about two dozen of them already. He needs neither blood connections nor government papers to prove it.

Maybe that’s why he’s so comfortable with his relationship with Aramis and Athos. He knows he can’t marry them both, knows that their love won’t be recognized by any kind of certificate.

It doesn’t matter. It never has.

Of course it would be nice if society could get with the program and realize a thing or two, but it won’t keep Porthos up at night. He knows that he’s going to spend the rest of his life with Athos and Aramis, and the knowledge makes him happier than anything else ever could.

Tiana emerges from the toilet stall, and he helps her wash her hands, dries them properly, and walks her back to her waiting grandmother. “Thank you,” the old lady says, pulling the little girl onto her lap, “you’re a true gentleman.”

Porthos smiles at her. “I’m doing my very best.” He looks out the window and realizes they’ve almost reached the station, and his heart skips in his chest. Coming home has never been so sweet, never felt so _urgent_. The mere thought of pulling his boys into his arms makes him feel giddy. He can almost taste Aramis’ kisses, can hear Athos drawl into his ear, pretending he hasn’t missed him at all.

The train pulls into the station and Porthos says goodbye to Tiana and her grandmother, gets a hug and a kiss on the cheek before he’s allowed to leave them. He collects his luggage, makes his way to the exit, and steps outside into the cold. People waiting to board the train bar his way, but his height makes it easy to force passage, and he strides forward, always looking out for Aramis and Athos, breathlessly eager to see their faces.

Everything inside him shrinks down to that one desire - the need to reconnect with them, to see and hold them once more, have them safe inside his embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

The platform is crowded and a light rain has started to fall. Dark clouds overhead shroud the scene in gray to the point that Porthos has trouble recognizing individual faces in the mass of scarves and hats.

But then he spots a flash of green, accompanied by cream and wine-red, and his eyes zoom in on the familiar colour-combination, recognize Athos and Aramis’ scarves in an instant. The sight of them works like a tonic on his whole system, comforting and restoring - elevating even.

Aramis has raised his arm and is waving at him, while Athos pulls him forward by their linked elbows, visibly intent on maintaining a speed just short of running.

Porthos can’t stop grinning as he closes the distance between them - can tell that Aramis and Athos can’t stop either. Their happiness at having him back is palpable, and it’s with a profound sense of love and belonging that he collides with them, abandoning his trolley so he can take them into his arms and give them a good, tight squeeze. “Hey you.”

“Hey,” Aramis echoes, pushing against him, allowing his lids to droop as he goes boneless.

“Your luggage is about to be stolen,” Athos drawls, but he pushes against him as well, puts his arms around Porthos’ middle and clings to him, warm and familiar. “Welcome home.”

“They can have it,” Porthos sighs, holding them tight. “God, I missed you.”

“We missed you more,” Aramis murmurs, resurfacing for a brief moment to press a kiss to Porthos’ lips. “You’re not allowed to go on holiday without us ever again.”

Porthos grins giddily. “Noted.”

“He is exaggerating,” Athos sniffs. “We actually managed quite well without you.”

“Oh, you want me to get back on that train and spend another two weeks with Samara’s folks?” Porthos teases.

Athos grips him rather tight in response. “No. I won’t allow it.”

“Glad that’s cleared up,” Porthos murmurs, brushing his lips to Athos’ cheek before he buries his face between theirs and closes his eyes, takes a deep breath.

They remain locked together, just breathing each other in, until the train departs once more. When Porthos lifts his head to check the platform is empty but for the three of them, and his back is getting cold from standing out in the wind for so long. “Come on,” he urges, peppering his boys’ faces with kisses. “Let’s go. I wanna cuddle you on the couch.”

“That’s a good idea,” Aramis sighs, and doesn’t move an inch. Neither does Athos.

Porthos chuckles. “A moment longer?”

“A moment longer,” Athos agrees.

Porthos hardly knows how to contain himself. It’s such joy to have them back.

Eventually Aramis loosens his grip on him and makes a valiant effort to stand upright by himself. Athos does not. Aramis pouts. “You were the one who said we were doing fine without him!”

“Yes, but having him home makes everything _better_ ,” Athos defends his clinginess. Still he lets go of Porthos and straightens, steps away to collect the abandoned trolley from where it’s standing a meter behind Porthos. When Porthos turns to look at him he lifts his chin, holds his head very high. “Off we go then.”

Porthos winks as him and links his arm with Aramis, waits until Athos is by his side and marches off. “You two look well,” he comments, not even trying to keep his satisfaction hidden. “Managed to feed yourselves properly without me, eh?”

“We tested all delivery options within a five mile radius while you were away,” Athos drawls, putting his free hand into the elbow not currently occupied by Aramis. “Your cooking remains superior. Eating what you have made is somehow more satisfying.”

Porthos huffs. “That’s cause you have to smell it through the whole preparation process.”

“You make it sound like that’s a chore,” Athos says warmly, giving Porthos’ arm the lightest pull to steer him in the right direction.

“You came by car?” Porthos asks when he spots a likely tank-sized vehicle on the parking strip by the side of the road. “I told you I don’t mind walkin’ home.”

“You did,” Aramis agrees, unlocking the car and opening the trunk. “But it’s _cold_.” He takes Porthos’ luggage from Athos and heaves it into the trunk, motions for Porthos to take the back seat. “I’m your driver today.”

Porthos doesn’t argue. It’s certainly nice, being cared for like that. Aramis turns out to be a very good driver - the perfect mixture of calm and alert, not prone to road-rage at all.

It allows Porthos to relax into his seat and draw Athos to his side so he can nuzzle his temple and smell his shampoo.

“You act as if we hadn’t seen each other for at least a year,” Athos drawls.

Porthos peeks down at him, finds his cheeks glowing with pleasure, and meets Aramis’ eyes in the rear view mirror. “Spill: how bad was he these past two weeks?”

Aramis’ gaze lights up with delight. “Almost as clingy as me!”

Athos huffs under his breath and calls him a traitor. Aramis merely grins and parks the car on the parking lot belonging to their building. “We’re home.”

Porthos reluctantly lets go of Athos and exits the car, gets his trolley out of the trunk. “How are the kittens doing?”

“Still expecting you to appear every time a door opens,” Aramis sighs. “It’s absolutely adorable, not to mention _hurtful_. We’re taking such good care of them.” He side-eyes Athos. “Some people keep trying to bribe them with treats.”

Athos makes a wounded sound. “Must you spill all my secrets?”

“Yes,” Aramis insists as they walk over to the wonderfully inviting main entrance. “Porthos needs to know what you have become in his absence.”

Porthos laughs and crosses the lobby to the elevator, manoeuvers his trolley into the very corner so all three of them fit into the cabin. “Me bein’ away certainly didn’t do you any harm, kitten.”

“Yes, well, what can I say,” Athos says. “We have been taking very good care of each other as well.”

There’s a certain something in his voice that lights up on Porthos’ radar like the biggest surprise submarine of all time. “Oh, have you now?”

“Yes,” Athos purrs, while Aramis goes delightfully pink. “All requirements were met, no wish left unfulfilled.”

Porthos lifts one amazed and slightly sceptical brow, and Athos rolls his eyes. “Alright, maybe not quite all. But enough of them. Certainly enough for a general sense of satisfaction.”

“He was very sweet,” Aramis agrees quietly.

Porthos stares at them, something that’s not quite jealousy bubbling up inside of him. “I bloody hope you took pictures!”


	3. Chapter 3

The kittens go nuts when they realize Porthos has finally returned.

Howard, who is more of a puppy than a kitten anyway, won’t stop chirping while Porthos takes off his jacket and shoes, keeps making increasingly insistent noises until Porthos picks him up and holds him to his chest. Then he purrs - constantly interrupted by yet more chirping, as if he wants to tell Porthos everything that happened while he was away.

The other two aren’t much better. Their relentless meowing as they streak around his ankles fills Porthos’ heart with helpless fondness, and he makes a bee-line for the couch, Howard still firmly entrenched in his arms, so the other two can cuddle up to him as well.

“I feel very loved,” he discloses a few minutes later, Santiago around his neck and Tom butting up under his chin, again and again, purring like a lawnmower, while Howard has settled down in his lap with a blissful grunt, apparently intent on taking a nap now that everything has returned to how it should be.

Athos, who is in the process of making tea, huffs and doesn’t offer a comment. Aramis is taking pictures. Then he glues himself to Porthos’ left, presses a kiss to his cheek. “You are.”

Porthos goes all mushy inside. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Aramis confirms placidly, lifts his face and gives Porthos a proper kiss. “Very.”

“You two are revolting,” Athos informs them. Having finished his tea preparations he walks over from the kitchen unit and leans forward, places his elbows on the high back of his armchair, trying and failing not to smile, looking at them. “I should have known it would be like this.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Porthos agrees happily, cuddling all of his kittens. “You wanna tell me how you took care of Aramis these past couple of weeks now?”

“Allow me to fortify myself with a cup of tea first,” Athos demands, returning to the kitchen when the water boiler finishes its business. “And maybe let me make a call to a delivery place of your choice as well.”

Porthos shakes his head about him, grinning ever so faintly. “You fear I won’t let you get away once you’ve started your story?”

“Something like that.” Athos nods and pours hot water over loose tea leaves generously sprinkled with honey. “In fact I think we should wait until the food is delivered before we tell you anything.”

“Now you’re just tryin’ to annoy me,” Porthos pouts at him.

“Yes,” Athos admits with a little grin. “I am.”

Aramis laughs into Porthos’ hair and strokes his hand over his chest, very nearly dislodging Tom, who is _still_ rubbing his head under Porthos’ chin in an effort to groom him - or possibly himself, using Porthos’ beard as a brush. “I think I missed this more than anything.”

Porthos peeks down at him. “What, us bein’ idiots?”

Aramis nods. “Yes.”

Porthos makes an affronted noise, and Athos _laughs_. “You set him up for that, Porthos!” He must see the greedy twinkle in Porthos’ eyes, for he returns to the kitchen one last time to finish with his tea fiddling, and finally joins them on the couch with the can and three mugs.

Once the can is safely stationed on its warmer on the table Porthos lifts his arm and pulls Athos close like a dragon might a favourite part of his hoard. “Perfect,” he decides, Aramis in one arm and Athos in the other. “Now order me some sushi, and then we can start with the quality part of the evenin’ - meanin’ a detailed report about what you two were up to while I was away.”

“What do you imagine we did in your absence?” Athos drawls, but he dutifully pulls out his phone and calls their favourite sushi place. “The usual?”

“Plus a little extra,” Porthos requests. “I didn’t have anythin’ since breakfast … Apart from some cookies an old lady gave me on the last train that is.”

Athos looks at him from the corner of his eyes, rolling them affectionately while holding his phone up to his ear and waiting for someone to pick up on the other end. “Can’t you go anywhere without charming old ladies?”

Porthos shrugs. “Apparently not.”

Athos gets through to the sushi place at that point, so Porthos turns his head to kiss Aramis. By the time Athos has finished his call Tom has left Porthos’ lap to investigate his bowl, Aramis is squirming and doing his damned best not to moan, and Porthos is feeling rather pleased with himself.

“Half an hour,” Athos says, putting his phone away. “Can you wait that long, or will you ravish Aramis on an empty stomach?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Porthos murmurs, dragging his lips over Aramis’ glowing cheek. “What are your thoughts on the matter, kitten?”

Aramis takes a deep breath, then clears his throat. “Food first,” he decides. “I don’t want to faint halfway through.”

Porthos grins at him. “Naw, I’d go easy on you.”

“No, you would not,” Athos grunts. “You have that shine.”

Porthos tries to look innocent. “What shine?”

Athos gestures at his everything. “That shine. I ban you from opening the door when the delivery person arrives. I do not want a love-sick and helplessly aroused human barnacle on my hands this evening. Apart from Aramis I mean.”

Aramis sticks out his tongue at him, and Porthos fails to contain his delight. “Looks like I should leave you two alone together more often!”

“Never again for such an extended period of time,” Athos says flatly. “One or two days at the most.”

Porthos sighs gustily, hugging them both a bit closer - at which point Santiago gives up and deserts his neck area, preferring to curl up on the edge of the couch’s backrest - close, but out of harm’s way. “You are the cutest when you get all possessive and bossy like this, did I ever tell you that?”

Athos cuddles up to his side. “I am glad you like it, for I have no intention of diluting that part of me for at least a week.”

“Good,” Porthos murmurs, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Because that would be a shame.” Aramis sighs at that point, so Porthos kisses his forehead as well. “Something you wanna say, kitten?”

“Not really, no,” Aramis whispers, eyeing Howard with some misgiving, possibly because he envies him the spot in Porthos’ lap. “I’m just happy.”

Porthos has nothing to add to that. Apart from some curiosity about that untold story maybe. But that’ll have to wait til after dinner. Maybe they can make it a bedtime story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I will totally write you guys that bedtime story - once my sleeping schedule decides what the hell it wants from me, and I can survive a day without gallons of coffee and black tea. SO TIRED.


	4. Chapter 4

Porthos exits the bathroom in his usual attire, namely pyjama bottoms and nothing else. It’s a little cold out in the hallway, but he figures that Aramis’ll want to snuggle tonight, and has prepared himself accordingly. He’s freshly showered, his teeth are brushed, and he even massaged some of that fancy conditioner Athos keeps buying into his beard to make it extra soft. He’s ready.

The kittens are not streaking around his ankles as he makes his way to the bedroom door. The excitement of his return has left them exhausted it seems; they’ve already curled up on the end of the couch visible from the hallway, all three of them.

Porthos smiles to himself and enters the bedroom, where he is immediately accosted by Aramis, and barely manages to close the door behind him before he is summarily dragged across the room and into bed. Once Aramis has arranged him to his liking between the sheets he climbs in after Porthos, aligns their bodies and puts his head on Porthos’ right shoulder with a blissful sigh. “Better.”

The sheets are warm and smell like home, and Porthos grunts with pleasure. “Yeah.”

Athos, who is sitting up in bed to their left with a book in his lap eyes them askance. “You are making me feel extremely inadequate, retrospectively.”

Porthos snorts with amusement and tries to get a glimpse at Aramis’ expression. It’s a little guilty, although he must know that it was a joke. “Don’t say that!” Aramis begs. “You were so wonderful these past two weeks - you’re always wonderful.”

Porthos grins up at Athos. “It’s just that my shoulders are better.”

Aramis pokes him in the ribs. “Don’t make it worse.”

Athos very nearly manages to hide his fond little smile. “Aramis, I am extremely sorry to say so, but this simply will not do.” He gestures at the two of them, lying side by side. “I demand my fair share of Porthos tonight.”

Aramis pouts. “I’m not keeping him from you. Just put the book away already and join us.”

Porthos feels extremely gratified by this exchange, but can’t keep himself from butting in yet again. “You know what I demand? _Information_.” Thus he sits up in bed, causing Aramis to fall face-first into their shared pillow as he slides off his shoulder. “Or neither of you’ll get any cuddles tonight.”

Athos huffs and closes his book with a snap. “As if you could bring yourself to actually abandon us. We should keep quiet just to force you into following through.”

Aramis sits up as well now, expression indignant. “No, we should not. You two can enact your power struggles when I’m not around to suffer from them.” He takes Porthos’ arm and gives it a little pull, looks at him out of wide, pleading eyes. “Please lie down again. I promise I’ll tell you everything.”

Porthos laughs and gives in, turns his head just in time to catch the look of helpless devotion on Athos’ features - turns it right back to look into Aramis’ eyes. “Well? Tell me.”

Aramis smiles at him, his customary blush already firmly in place. “You have to promise not to laugh.”

“Why would I laugh?”

Aramis lowers his eyes. “Because for the first week I was a little stupid, and tried to be considerate.”

“He downright avoided me,” Athos drawls, lying down as well, making himself comfortable on Porthos’ left shoulder. “It was extremely cruel.”

Porthos snorts and presses a kiss to Athos’ cheek, earns himself a pleased grunt. “You used the beard stuff I bought you. It smells nice.”

“But then I came home one evening, and Athos was a little drunk,” Aramis hurries on, a delighted air to his words. “So he was very definite about being close to me, which was really nice.”

“Eventually I let him fellate me,” Athos drawls. “The End.”

Aramis lifts his head off Porthos’ shoulder, stares at Athos past Porthos’ stunned expression. “Why would you tell it like that?!”

“To see his face,” Athos explains smugly. “Look at him. Completely gobsmacked.”

That startles a laugh out of Porthos, and he rolls around, flattens Athos into the mattress. “You naughty little goblin!”

“I’m not the naughty one!” Athos wheezes. “It was all Aramis’ doing!”

“Oh, Aramis is an innocent little lamb compared to you,” Porthos growls, rolling back into his original position. “Not nearly as devious.”

“Thank you,” Aramis sniffs, kissing his cheek. “Oh, the beard stuff really smells lovely.”

Porthos nuzzles his temple. “I’m glad you like it. Now tell me that blow-job story - at a proper pace and with the appropriate climax.”

Aramis clears his throat. “He came all over my face.”

Porthos makes a winded noise. “Not quite what I meant.”

Aramis directs a sly look up at him. “Did I do well, Athos?”

“Extremely so, yes,” comes the smooth reply. “I will most certainly reward you at a later time.”

Porthos feels unusually helpless between them. He’s not used to them teaming up - not like this. It’s wonderful.

“How about you let him blow you again,” he hears himself say. “Because I wanna see that. Maybe do a little somethin’ special, tie him up first, get him all excited.”

Aramis takes a deep breath in reaction to that suggestion, and Porthos hears him swallow, pulls him a little closer. “Would you like that?”

“Of course I would,” Aramis whispers, stroking a timid hand over Porthos’ chest. “That’s not the issue.”

“There is no issue,” Athos speaks up, lifting his own hand to place it above Aramis’ on Porthos’ chest. “Do you not remember how responsive I was to your efforts?”

Porthos gets goosebumps all over, hearing those words. “You were?”

Athos takes a deep, slow breath. “It appears that Aramis is wholly incapable of causing me physical discomfort.”

Porthos files that away for later, to analyze the phrasing when he’s rather more sober-minded. Now he smiles. “That’s great, love.”

“Yes, it was very surprising to me as well,” Athos murmurs. “Which is why I came all over his face.”

Porthos nearly chokes on an intake of air. “Will you stop that!”

“No,” Athos replies, simple and curt. “I think I shall use that weapon until it runs out of ammunition.”

“What a horrible euphemism,” Aramis comments cheekily.

Porthos can’t with them. “Where did it happen?” he asks. “Were you in bed?”

“No, we were on the couch,” Athos says. “Which was very comfortable - apart from the kittens’ interest in the proceedings, maybe.” He sounds a little put-out, and Porthos laughs, stares up at the ceiling and tries to visualize it without breaking out into giggles. “Aramis did not even notice them, I believe,” Athos continues, his voice very soft all of a sudden. “And eventually neither did I.”

Porthos watches them link their fingers over his chest and sighs appreciatively. “He’s very pretty when he’s sucking cock, isn’t he?”

“He is always pretty,” Athos replies evenly.

Aramis presses his burning face into Porthos’ neck.

“Yes, he is,” Porthos agrees, pressing a kiss to his hair.

“I am nevertheless of the opinion that a repeat performance should take place in here rather than the living room,” Athos muses.

Porthos’ mouth pulls into a smile. “Agreed.”

Aramis’ head snaps up. His cheeks are burning, but his face is a picture of determination. “Yes. There’s the headboard, for one. And all the toys are in here.”

“Yes,” Athos agrees. “That way Porthos can play with you while you suck me off.”

“I think,” Porthos says, aware of a familiar heat against his right hip, “I should play with him a little right now.”

A statement that is followed by immediate action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I slept, I wrote, I conquered.
> 
> I am also aware that that's not really dirty talk, but I had to tag it SOMETHING.


End file.
